Winner's Prize
by Beauty'sBeast
Summary: Draco Malfoy was the kind of person who did not like to lose. But when Draco's heart became set on winning something quite different, and quite out of reach, he found that winning was more satisfactory than he thought. After all, determination is the key, and if you want something badly enough, you will always get it, right? Rated M for future predictions. DM/HG BZ/GW.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Hello guys, just a quick message. Thankyou for taking the time to read my work, is very much appreciated. My old account, LionsAndSnakes, has sadly become un-accessible. Reasons I do not know, but I am unable to log in. Anyway, a fresh start is upon us and I hope to use it wisely.

_Also, I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

* * *

**_Prologue._**

Draco Malfoy was the kind of person who did not like to lose. This first became apparent at the age of about five. Living in Malfoy Mannor, it was more than likely that Draco would be submerged into the world of competition, however, having no blood-related brothers or sisters, Draco's only 'friend' was his neighbour, the Zabinis. Draco had known Blaise for a large percentage of his life. When Blaise's father had died, reasons unknown to everyone, even Blaise, Draco's dad would often visit Mrs Zabini to 'check on her well-being' and 'pay his respects'. Sometimes, he would take Draco along with him too, but that was on the rare occasion, and when that occasion did occur, Blaise and Draco were usually forced to play outside whilst Draco's father and Blaise's mother would disappear inside the house. It wasn't until Draco was about 10, that he realised what exactly was happening between his father and Mrs Zabini, and why his mother had never really taken a liking to the woman who lived next door. But on all those occasions when Draco and Blaise would go outside, in all seasons, and race their new brooms, practice their spells and carry out friendly duels, Draco's determination to win was becoming evident. Even at the tender age of five, Draco would go out of his way to beat Blaise at any chance possible. It was considered a friendly rivalry, encouraging one and other to perform to their best abilities, but on one cold December morning, when Draco's father had taken him to the Zabini household to drop off 'Christmas Gifts', Draco and Blaise endured a very competitive broomstick race.

"Okay," Blaise announced through chattering teeth, "We race from the back door steps, to the bottom of the fence and back, whoever wins, gets to choose which Chocolate Frog Collectors Card they want from the loser."

A young Draco smiled, his cold, icy blue eyes gleaming and his chubby little cheeks glowing a crimson shade of red.

"Prepare to be completely and utterly demolished, Zabini," he said, teeth chattering very much like the latter.

Blaise replied with a 'We'll see,' before the two youngsters hopped upon their brooms. Draco was full of excitement. Atleast, that's what he labeled the racing adrenaline and determination in his squinting eyes and furrowed brow.

"On your marks," Blaise called,

"Get set," It was almost too much for Draco to bare, and he'd sped off through the crisp, cold air before Blaise had even had the chance to signal the final calling.

It was a blur of white, Draco laughed to himself as he could see the fence approaching nearer, his platinum hair flowing behind him as he began to pick up speed. But Zabini was a good flyer, despite his modesty and claims to his preference of books over sport, and he was easily catching up with the boy in front of him. By the time the two of them hit the fence, Blaise was hot on Draco's tail. With a quick side glance, the latter began to steer into the path of the dark skinned boy, but this was quickly diverged as Blaise swooped above Draco, causing him to slow in disbelief, and finish just before the sulking boy following him. Zabini laughed with satisfaction, but Draco was furious. His breathing was ragged, partly from the sheer exhaustion of the effort he put into the race, and partly because of the anger building inside of him.

"Good game, Malfoy," Blaise smirked, holding his hand out for Draco to shake.

But Draco was practically irate. Within a few seconds, he had whipped out his wand and was aiming precisely at Blaise's broom. Before the boy could intervene, Draco had quickly yelled 'Incendio,' and the broom which had lead Blaise to victory, was now burning to almost nothing. The boys began arguing, rolling about in the snowy grass.

"Stop this at once!" A stern voice cleared the cool air.

Blaise and Draco rose from the ground, mouths gaping slightly and eyes looking fearful. They dusted the snow off their robes before looking back to a furious looking Mr Malfoy. Stood in the doorway was Blaise's mother, looking slightly more embarrassed than angry, her hair notably less sleek and styled than earlier that morning, and a small blush playing across her cheeks that wasn't due to the December chill.

"Now if you two are to fight," Lucius began, "Atleast do it with the courtesy to use magical techniques. We are not training you before school and preparing you with the use of spells for no good reason."

Both of the boys looked shameful, and slowly looked to the ground.

"Now," he continued, "What exactly were you two stupidly quarreling over?"

"-Draco set my broom on fire!" said Blaise, which was returned with a sharp elbow dig to the ribs from Draco.

Mr Malfoy looked at his son with an unreadable expression.

"Is that so?" he questioned, though it was more rhetorical than anything else, "And why was this?"

It was silent, Blaise had said enough and he and Mr Malfoy were expecting Draco to talk.

"He beat me in a race," Draco said shamefully.

Mr Malfoy's face was a mixture between amusement and disbelief. He was proud of his son for the sheer determination he harvested, but at the same time was undeniably let down by his lack of ability to beat his friend in a race. The amusement was influenced by the revenge Draco had taken.

"Well, Draco, you are to say sorry to Blaise here, at once." Mr Malfoy demanded.

The boys did as he said,

"And not to worry dearest Lucinda," he continued, "I'm sure we will be able to replace young Blaise's broomstick in the very near future."

Mrs Zabini nodded hastily, before looking over to her son and his friend, and shamefully returning back inside the house.

"Now come along Draco," Mr Malfoy said, "Your mother will be wondering where we are."

With a polite nod to Blaise, who smiled guiltily, and a firm grip around his son's shoulder, he and Draco began to walk around the side of the large house, in hope of returning home.

Draco's dad did not scold Draco for what he did. He didn't shout, or punish, or even beat Draco like he had sometimes done in the past. Instead, Lucius praised his son for what he'd done. He said, 'In life, there are winners, winners unworthy of their title, and in this unfair and unjust life, you are to decipher who deserves that title, and who doesn't. And if they don't, you must show them in whatever way, shape or form that may be, that you are the winner, and they aren't. Determination is the key, Draco, and if you want something badly enough, you will _always _get it.'

To this day, Draco lived by the words of his father, and as for his friend Blaise, he remembered that day as a lesson to be learnt. When Draco had his heart set upon something, you should do anything you can to help him, but do not, above all things, get in his way. When Draco wants something, even if it is something he can't have, he will go to all extents to get it. After all, determination is the key, and if you want something badly enough, you will _always _get it, right?


	2. Discovery

**A/N: **Hey guys. So, the words literally fired out my fingertips on this chapter. I'm getting into it straight away so you guys can get an idea of the plot. Much more excitement to come!

_Also, I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself._

**Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!**

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_Chapter One._

The early June sunlight beamed through the windows of the Slytherin Common Room. Draco forced is eyes open, squinting into the sunlight. He sighed, sitting up in his bed. The same routine every single day was starting to get the better of him. Smoothing his hand through his disheveled, platinum locks, he looked to his left. He could see the emerald curtains shut around Blaise's bed, and could hear him snoring to his heart's content. But something disrupted his train of thought. To his right, he felt something shift under the silk covers of his bed. A dark haired girl turned to face Draco, still sound asleep, but most probably fully naked from what could be seen. Draco groaned, and shook his head, but winced as it pounded and ached. _'Again?' _he thought to himself, _'I thought we'd given up with her a long time ago.' _Draco took another look at Pansy, before sighing an getting out of bed. He began striding over to the bathroom, his bare feet touching the cool floor, whilst stretching his arms above his head. Once inside, with the doors fully locked, he looked at himself in the mirror. He inspected his messy, but still soft and smooth hair. His face was just as attractive as always, and he pulled his signature smirk at the thought. Rubbing his chin, he realized however, he could do with a shave. Shaving was a chore for Draco, however he did take pride in his appearance and always made time to make improvements. A couple of minutes later, Draco was disrupted by a loud knock on the bathroom door. He threw his razor into the sink and rolled his eyes. With yet another sigh, the boy opened the door to find a smiling Blaise leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," Blaise said in a cliché advertising voice, "And may I say, congratulations on your choice of female last night, I do believe she is still in your bed as a reminder of the memorable night before, a souvenir perhaps-"

Draco pulled Blaise into the bathroom by the collar and shut the door firmly behind him. The latter chuckled to himself, gracefully falling into the chaise lounge positioned beside the basins and counters.

"Would you just fuck off, Zabini?" Malfoy spat, picking up his razor once again and carefully tracing it down the smooth, pale skin of his face and neck.

Blaise let out a long whistle, shaking his head at Malfoy's attitude at the same time.

"She must of been a pretty bad shag," he said, stretching his arms out along the back of the chair and crossing his ankles.

Draco turned the tap on, cupping some water in his hands and washing his face, before patting his skin dry with a green towel.

"It's the fact it was her," he began, sitting in a similar seat alongside Blaise, "It's the fact that it's the same boring girls, every night, in the same boring place, doing the same boring stuff. The same boring routine every morning, the same boring people I talk to, the same boring faces I see. This bloody school is just, just-"

"Boring?" Blaise filled in, completing Draco's sentence.

"Exactly," the latter responded, rubbing his forehead.

Blaise leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. He enjoyed toying with Draco, it was something that allowed him to release the anger he kept inside, in a less violent way. That was the problem with being friends with Draco. Sometimes, he annoyed you to no end, but it had it's benefits too, and Blaise knew that.

"So what exactly are you saying?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

Draco sighed. He'd done a lot of sighing this morning and found, really, it didn't help that much at all. He rose from his seat and picked up his toothbrush.

"What I'm saying is that, something needs to change. I need something new, something exciting."

Blaise wiggled his eyebrows at Malfoy's response, but Draco simply ignored him.

"I mean think about it, when was the last time you woke up in the morning and was excited for the day ahead, or shagged some girl and thought, 'Wow, that was something new!' Or even had a bit of fun?"

"I have to give it to you," Blaise leant back into his seat again, "You have a point."

Draco looked half insulted, at the fact Blaise hadn't realised that he always has a point, and half satisfied, at the fact Blaise agreed. Regardless, Draco began brushing his teeth. It was a good few minutes until the silence was broke. Blaise cleared his throat, usually he found something logical to say in moments like this, and he didn't fail to fulfill that role.

"But Slytherin has a game coming up next week," he pointed out, "Isn't that exciting enough?"

Draco merely scoffed, shaking his head and continuing to vigorously clean his teeth.

"Think about it, you can train all you like, get out of lessons because of that, you even have a chance of creating a legitimate reason for holding a party here if you do win. I mean come on, when was the last time we threw some sort of party? Besides, you're also playing Gryffindor, you're in with the chance of beating Potty and Weasel, and all his other nerdy little comrades. Doesn't the look on their faces give you enough satisfaction?"

Draco spat the contents of his mouth into the sink, before washing his face, similarly to before, and patting it dry once more. He turned to face Blaise, leaning against the cool marble of the counter work top.

"You know, in all my years at Hogwarts, I thought seeing the pain on Potter's face when I beat him, at one of the things he's passionate about, would never get old. But it does, my friend. And so does beating him at potions, and every other subject. I've won, everything from him. That's just how it is."

And with that, Draco shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands as if to say _'What can I do?' _before leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Blaise sighed. When around Draco, sighing was almost infectious. He shook his head at the ignorance of the boy. Now he'd got everything he wanted, beaten Potter at everything worth winning, and completely regained his position over Potter's head, was there really anything else left to do?

Blaise was a smart man. As much as he was secretly athletic, he excelled in school and was very academic. Something he never failed to do was to solve problems. Problems, specifically, seemed to crop up around Draco a lot. It was Blaise's duty, as his friend, to solve them problems for him. For his own sanity, Blaise had to solve this case of 'boredom' for Draco, or else his constant whining and unmotivated attitude would drive himself mad. The solution, however, had currently escaped him. This problem was something he'd have to think about.

* * *

"So what exactly is our strategy for the game?" Ginny asked.

Quite frankly, it was too early for Ron and Harry to be discussing Quidditch, and Hermione was oblivious to any talk upon that subject. But, nevertheless, Ginny was thrilled and mostly excited to prepare for the game. The trio and Ginny, who seemed to be becoming a regular character on the scene, paced down the corridors, weaving in and out of students. It was early morning, and most pupil's main priorities were to reach the Great Hall and eat. Similarly, this was the aim for Ron and Harry too. Hermione, however, seemed to be completely un-phased, and was lingering behind the others, typically with her head in some sort of book.

"I'm not entirely sure, Ginny," Harry said politely.

Ginny looked a little put out by his lack of interest to talk to her. She was still very much inlove with Harry, and it was a topic that she and Hermione had, much to the latter's chagrin, discussed a lot over the past couple of weeks. It wasn't like Hermione had anything against the two being together, or that she had feelings for Harry and jealousy was taking over, it was more the fact that it was something Hermione didn't have much interest in. When talking about something so much, it can get a little boring after a while.

"Oh," Ginny replied, "Well let me know as soon as you know!"

"Sure we will-" Ron said sarcastically, before receiving an elbow in the ribs from the boy beside him.

"-Potty!" A familiar voice called.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes and mentally counting to ten, before looking up and seeing the group approaching.

Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle were all walking the opposite way down the corridor. The group practically treated the hallways as a runway, and they all strutted, well most of them, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be walking in what they only hoped would look like a strut, towards Harry and his friends.

"What on earth do you want Malfoy?" He called back, as the two groups approached eachother, before stopping at a safe distance.

"Hold on," Draco gestured with his hand,

"Potty, Weasel" he pointed out each one individually, "and Weaslette. So you finally decided to ditch the Mudblood?"

Crabbe and Goyle smirked, as did Draco, but Blaise merely watched on from afar.

Hermione had been caught behind in the crowd. As much as the three of her friends were preparing for Quidditch, Hermione had much more important preparing to do. Every second she could, she'd be revising from a book she most probably would have read a thousand times before. With O.W.L's fast approaching, Hermione needed all the revision time she had. She was just about half way through her page when she walked into something, or more like someone, before her.

Harry, who'd stumbled a little thanks to Hermione, turned to look at her confused face, making room for her to stand next to him.

"Sorry, Harry, I didn't see you there-"

"Right on queue, mudblood!" Draco said, grimacing as Hermione turned to scowl at him.

"Good morning to you too," Hermione spat, glaring at Draco and his friends.

"Infact," Draco placed his hand upon his chin, as if in contemplation, "I was having quite a good morning," Blaise of all people knew this was a lie, "Until you came along. Always got your nose in a book haven't you, you'd think with all that reading you'd of _learnt _that some of us don't need extra practice and intelligence comes naturally."

Hermione rolled her eyes,

"Well with all that implied intelligence of yours, you think you'd be able to come up with some better insults, now wouldn't you?"

Draco stepped forwards quickly, invading Hermione's personal space,

"Listen up, you petty little Mudblood-"

But Harry had dragged Hermione away, and he, Hermione and the two siblings walked around the Slytherins and continued down the corridor.

"Enjoy this time whilst you can. It's only a matter of days before we beat you!" Malfoy called as the four Gryffindors disappeared around the corner.

Blaise patted Draco on the shoulder as they continued walking down the corridor.

"See," he gestured, "Life isn't all that boring."

Malfoy frowned,

"What, picking on Potty and his friends is interesting?" he scoffed, "That stupid, time wasting shit got old a _long _time ago."

Blaise eyed Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed to be in hysterics, laughing at something that Blaise had the better knowledge of knowing was probably not even that funny.

"So if it's so worthless, why do you still pick on Granger?" Blaise inquired.

Draco stopped, and sighed, as if it was obvious and it took great effort to explain. He then turned to Blaise, and talked to him the way a preschool teacher would whilst explaining something difficult to the youngsters,

"Because I like doing it," he said, with a fake, chirpy tone.

Blaise shook his head as the pair continued on their journey to their next class.

"Like I said," Malfoy continued, "Life's boring."

* * *

Later that day, Blaise visited the library. As much as he enjoyed Malfoy's company, at times it could get quite tiresome. The library was the only place Blaise knew Draco would not come out of choice. And besides, Blaise enjoyed reading every now and again. After spending quite some time choosing what book he would read, he headed to the back of the library, where the seating area was located. It was quite late, and so many students had retired to their common rooms. Apart from one. It was no shock to Blaise to see Hermione curled up in a seat near the fireplace. Blaise often saw Hermione studying when he payed these late visits to the library. In some ways, though he'd never admit it to Draco, Blaise admired Hermione. She was smart, very smart actually, and was a big contender to rival Blaise's intelligence. She was also quite funny. Blaise frequently saw Hermione talking to her friends, of which many of them would laugh at something she would say. And she was fairly easy on the eyes. That was the part he'd never admit to Draco. The seventeen year old Hermione resembled nothing of the younger, bushy haired girl. In fact, her hair was quite long, and fell in natural, loose curls. Her eyebrows had been plucked, her old, overgrown ones were merely a shadow of her new, fine brows, which complimented her angular face. She also had very impressive eyes. They were a smoldering, fiery brown, like melted chocolate and honey mixed together. Regardless, she was off bounds. She was a Gryffindor, a nerd, and most of all, a muggle-born.

However, she was decent enough to talk to, and so Blaise took a seat at the table beside her.

It was a good half an hour before anyone spoke, and surprisingly, it was Hermione who broke the silence first.

"I have two theories," she said.

Blaise looked up from his book, and then around the library. There was no one else there, so evidently Hermione was talking to him.

"And what exactly are they, Granger?"

She sighed, scribbling something quickly on a parchment beside her and resting her quill down, before looking over to Blaise.

"Either you're actually here out of choice every night that I'm here," Hermione said, with a sarcastic tone, "Or Malfoy has merely sent you to spy on me or try and see if I do anything weird in my spare time that he can bully me for."

Blaise smirked.

"Granger, as much as Draco hates you, he's not obsessed," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Or atleast I don't think he is," Now she looked a little confused and Blaise presumed he ought to play it safe, "But still, he doesn't keep tabs on your every move and as shocking as it is, I actually enjoy studying and it is merely a coincidence we tend to arrive here at the same time."

That seemed to satisfy Hermione, but she had more questions, which Blaise found rather out of character.

"Why don't you bully me, like the rest of them? Call me names, you know," she paused, "_Mudblood_."

Blaise shook his head. He was never fond of that word. Though Blaise was from a pure magical background, his mother often brought home muggle men, who would awkwardly greet Blaise, stay for one night, then leave and not return. However, his mother had remarried seven times, and each of them were wizards. Blaise presumed it would be easier if they knew about magic, than constantly having to hide it. However, Blaise saw nothing wrong with people who had come from an all muggle background. If anything, he admired them. After all, they were completely different and gifted in unimaginable ways to the muggle mind, and that must of made them sort of special.

"I find that I do not need to stoop to such a low level," Blaise continued, beginning to find his place again in his book, "And mudblood really isn't a word that does much justice to people of an all muggle background."

It was silent for quite some time again, but Blaise looked at Hermione every once in a while, and she had a sort of smile on her face. Blaise wished he wasn't so nice at times, he was sure he was placed in the wrong house. But he and Hermione shared an understanding that night. However, Blaise had a couple of things he wanted to mention too.

"Why don't you like Quidditch, Granger?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him with and expression of a mixture between confusion and shock.

"Well," she stuttered, "How do you know that I don't?"

"You never participate, when your friends talk about it, you couldn't seem less interested, you attend matches, but I imagine only out of support for your friends, and you never advanced in the subject of flying," Blaise pointed out, as if it was obvious.

Hermione was slightly taken aback. It shocked her that someone had actually payed attention to her and observed her actions. She didn't know whether to feel happy, or to be a little creeped out. But after all, this was a Slytherin, and when one of their kind is nice to you, you should stay on their good side.

"It was something I was never good at, and never cared for. There's much more to life than flying on a broomstick, and a large percentage of jobs in the Wizarding World require knowledge, not the ability to fly."

Blaise nodded in understanding.

"However, I could say the same thing for you," Hermione pointed out.

"You can think what you want Granger," Blaise turned the page, "What I like and what I do in my spare time is my knowledge and not yours."

It was true, Hermione felt a little foolish then, for being so open with Blaise. She didn't have to answer that question, but she chose to anyway.

"Well I guess neither of us will be overjoyed when Slytherin beat Gryffindor next week," Blaise said confidently.

Hermione practically slammed her book shut. Blaise, however, didn't flinch.

"I may not like Quidditch, but I have faith in our team. Harry is an excellent captain, far better than Malfoy, and this year we'll get to see that smug smile wiped of his face when _Gryffindor _beat Slytherin. This is something Malfoy isn't going to get handed to him, and isn't going to win."

Blaise looked at Hermione with interest. The little she knew about Draco may be beneficial to Blaise in this situation, but he had a hunch, and he was following it.

"So you agree, Draco wins everything, and Potter's part in life is playing the loser?" Blaise questioned.

"No!" Hermione cried. She looked around to see if anyone had heard, but merely a raised eyebrow from Madam Pince was all that greeted her.

Blaise found her anger amusing. He could see why Draco enjoyed teasing her, she got angry so easily it was hard not to test her boundaries.

"Malfoy may consider himself smarter, or faster, or more agile, or more handsome or Merlin knows what else," Hermione ranted, her voice merely a whisper, "But Malfoy doesn't win everything. Harry has things that Malfoy could only dream of having. And the sooner he realizes that, the sooner he gets down off his high horse and does us all a favor."

A more than furious Hermione began packing up her bag, and went to leave, not before throwing a stern '_Goodnight._' to Blaise and striding away in a huff.

Blaise relaxed back into the comfy leather of the chair in which he sat. He placed his legs upon the coffee table and crossed his ankles. Hermione was often very logical in what she said, much like Blaise, and he wondered whether, when she got angry like he just witnessed, she really did talk that much sense. But after taking the time to think it through, Blaise couldn't help but wonder. Yes, Malfoy had beaten Harry in the past, in everything that had a grade, or a mark, or a score, but did he really win after all?

It took some time, but Blaise sat and pondered over the thoughts in which Hermione had put in his head for a good hour or so, and then the problem was solved. Draco didn't win. Infact, he probably never would until he understood what exactly it takes to 'win' in life. Potter did have something Draco didn't. Sure, Draco beat Harry in all those that Hermione had listed, and he even beat Weasley too, he was richer, smarter, more talented and definitely more attractive. But there was that one thing that Harry had that Draco didn't. And if Draco really wanted to win, Blaise better than all people knew he'd go out of his way to get it. But this game him and Potter were playing, this title of the 'Winner', would he really risk it all knowing exactly what he needed to win? After all, it was the only thing left, and once he had it, he'd won. Blaise had discovered the key to Draco's success, and he knew exactly the prize that would follow.

* * *

**Well done, you reached the end! Don't forget to leave a review, good or bad, and keep updated for the next chapter! Thanks guys, Amelia.**


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